


Don't Make Me Order You, Sherlock

by Sherlock1110, sherlockian4evr



Series: Sherlock and Mycroft Stuff [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BDSM, Clamps - Freeform, Enthusiastic Consent, Handcuffs, M/M, Sibling Incest, Threesome - M/M/M, Tiger Balm, holmescest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-12
Updated: 2015-12-12
Packaged: 2018-05-06 09:24:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5411543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlock1110/pseuds/Sherlock1110, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlockian4evr/pseuds/sherlockian4evr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the prompt:</p><p>Mycroft: "Don't make me order you Sherlock"<br/>Sherlock *sneers* "I'd like to see you try"<br/>ERmm YES! So would I, actually! GULP<br/>Take this out of context someone?....</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Make Me Order You, Sherlock

Mycroft took a step closer to his brother. In a menacing voice, he said, "Don't make me order you, Sherlock."

Instantly, almost reflexively, Sherlock sneered, "I'd like to see you try."

Moving even closer, the elder Holmes cupped Sherlock's obvious erection through layers of material. "Oh, but you want me to, don't you, brother-mine."

Sherlock glared up at him but was interrupted by John clearing his throat awkwardly. 

"What's going on?"

"Er…" the British Government froze, had he really forgotten John was there? He was getting sloppy. 

"Whatever it is, can I help?"

Sherlock felt a blush creeping up his neck, God, right to the tips of his ears. He had a feeling that even his nipples were blushing. He looked at his brother again, of course, he’d brought this up with John around.

"You should learn, little brother, you do what I tell you."

John cleared his throat. "If it's just the same to you, Mycroft, could you have him remove his shirt? I don't think those buttons can hold much longer."

Sherlock's head shot around transferring his glare to the doctor who smiled lasciviously back. "I'll do what you want Mycroft, I'll look into it."

"Too late, little brother. This will teach you not to be a cheeky shit."

John had never heard Mycroft swear. 

"Mycroft, I don't..." Sherlock's words broke off as his brother grabbed him by the arm and turned him to face John.

"You've been such a tease, haven't you, brother mine?" Mycroft leaned in and whispered into his ear. "Look at him. See how he looks at you? How he wants you? John made a simple enough request. Unbutton your shirt, Sherlock."

"But I said I would do what you wanted-"

"No!" Mycroft cut him off and pushed him to his knees. "Shirt off, Sherlock, that's an order."

When Sherlock's hand moved hesitantly to the topmost of the fastened buttons, he noticed John's tongue dart out and, oh, wasn't that interesting. The detective dropped his eyes to John's crotch and noted the bulge there. It matched his own. There had always been an unspoken mutual attraction between them, but this, Mycroft taking control, was something unpredictable, something dangerous. They both thrived on danger.

"Oh brother dear, you can go faster than that," the government official tapped his bulging trousers with the tip of his umbrella and Sherlock froze completely, if he hadn't he would have pushed into it without a doubt. "I said faster, Sherlock, not slower."

Sherlock's fingers, normally graceful, seemed clumsy and numb as he fumbled at his buttons. He finally got them undone, breathing unaccountably hard.

John glanced at the British government in question. "May I?"

Mycroft inclined his head in approval. The doctor reached out and slid the shirt from Sherlock's shoulders, letting it fall softly to the floor. 

"You know, John, there's not a lot we can really do with him here."

The doctor took his eyes away from the kneeling detective for a moment to glance at the government official. "How do you mean?"

"Well, at my club I have a few… how to put it? Toys we can play with."

John's eyes twinkled at the suggestion. He stepped by both men and reached into the pocket of Sherlock's Belstaff, drawing out a pair of handcuffs. "Might these be useful on the way?"

"Oh brother dear, been pick pocketing Lestrade again?"

He averted his eyes not rising to the bait.

"What did you do with Redbeard's collar, Sherlock?"

His brother looked stricken, heartbroken, betrayed.

Mycroft's expression softened. "It's okay, Sherlock. You can keep it a secret. I've come prepared. I've always been prepared for this eventuality." He drew a black and silver collar from his pocket. "I wonder who should do the honours."

"You just walk around with a dog collar in your pocket?" John stood beside the older man, mouth agape. 

"I never know when my baby brother is going to need correction. Well, more than normal that is."

John glanced between the two brothers then down at the handcuffs he was holding. Who was he to talk? They were brothers, that made it a bit odd, but what wasn't odd about those two? "Okay, fair point."

Mycroft stepped forward with the collar and Sherlock leant back. "Are you really going to fight us, Sherlock?"

The detective swallowed with difficulty and took a moment then shook his head, lowering it into defeat. 

The older Holmes' grin was predatory as he slipped the collar around his brother's neck. At the same time John moved forward with the cuffs, this was going to be way too much fun. 

John snaked his arms under the detective's armpits and lifted him to his feet. He couldn't resist wrapping his arms around him in an embrace and placing a kiss between his shoulder blades. Sherlock shivered delightfully. As predicted, Sherlock spun around to kiss the doctor back, but John was prepared. He snapped the cuffs around the presented wrist and spun him around to join his hands together there at the small of his back. Mycroft laughed at Sherlock being caught off guard. Sherlock turned to glare at his mirthful brother, but John regained his attention with a playful tweak of his right nipple.

"You haven't by chance got a leash in your pocket?" John asked, with good humour. 

Mycroft shook his head. Sherlock sighed in relief. "But that won't be a problem." He struggled out of his tie, and undid his top button. John smiled, it took years off him. Mycroft strung the thin end of his tie through the silver loop that fell just below his brother's Adams apple and tied an efficient knot. He addressed John, "As a doctor in the field, I'm quite certain you appreciate the value of improvisation."

John ran his fingers through ebony curls. "Yes, but it was never this much fun."

The older man indicated the door. "Shall we?"

John nodded, the ever present grin on his face just getting wider and wider as he looked between the Holmes brothers. 

Sherlock balked at the threshold, it was cold outside. John grinned and grabbed the Belstaff, draping it over his flatmates bare shoulders.

Mycroft scoffed, "A little chill won't kill him, John."

The doctor rolled his eyes. "Yeah, but if he catches a cold, I'm the one that'll have to listen to his whinging."

"Oh, that won't be a problem." He tugged the leash sharply and Sherlock stumbled, away from John and in front of his brother. "The car is already here after all."

John climbed in first, followed by Sherlock. He went to take a seat and John shook his head. "I don't think so, somehow, do you?" He pushed him to the floor. 

Sherlock huffed. "Don't I get a say in this?"

Mycroft laughed gleefully, far more animated than John had ever seen him. "Why don't you rest your head, brother dear? I'm sure John's lap is getting cool. It's best you warm it up."

"That didn't answer my question, Mycroft,” Sherlock huffed.

"You're not the one in charge here Sherlock, I am and John is, you keep your mouth shut until asked a direct question."

They could see clearly he was going to argue so John used force as a way of persuasion by grabbing his hair and pulling him around so he was in front of him. Sherlock could have argued, meant to argue, but his eyes fluttered shut in pleasure at being so manhandled. To his horror, he heard himself moan out a broken, "John." The doctor took that as an invitation to bury Sherlock's head in his crotch and hold him there, stroking through those maddening curls.

Mycroft gave instructions to the driver and he watched his brother as they pulled out into the heavy traffic of central London. 

Sherlock couldn't help himself, he was where he had wanted to be for so long and John was hard and enticing against his cheek. The detective rubbed against John's bulge, turning to nose at it, then nuzzle and lick.

"Erm… no Sherlock," John paused him where he was. "Let's wait until we've got to Mycroft's, eh?"

Sherlock actually pouted so John pushed his finger into his mouth, half anticipating a bite. Instead, Sherlock gently fellated his finger like there was nothing more pleasurable in the world. John looked on, mesmerised.

"My brother's always been rather oral," Mycroft noted. "You'll find it has its advantages."

"I'm starting to regret leaving Baker Street now," John commented, regretfully.

The older man laughed. "We'll be at the club soon enough."

John barked a laugh. "Define soon enough, because these jeans are getting uncomfortable." 

Sherlock grinned up at him even as he continued fellating the doctor's finger.

"Christ! Could you look less gorgeous?" John complained.

"Easy, John," Mycroft soothed. "We've arrived."

"Well, that is definitely soon enough."

Mycroft grabbed his tie that was still attached to his little brother and he began to pull him out of the car. 

The Belstaff flared open, allowing the cool air to caress his chest. His nipples peaked sharply and his skin was covered with goose flesh. The pink glow of his skin was from chill, not from arousal. Sherlock spoke in exasperation, "Could you possibly move any slower, Mycroft?"

"I could make you crawl. Baby brother."

John climbed out of the back of the sedan and shut the door. He jumped up and down like a toddler at a party. "Can he Mycroft? Can he?"

Sherlock's mouth worked like a fish. He was supposed to be the childish one. How had he missed this aspect of the man known as John Watson? 

Mycroft looked both ways and found the street deserted. He gave a shrug. "Why not?" He pressed down on his brother's shoulder. "You heard the good doctor. Crawl."

Sherlock fought him for a moment, but then John stepped forward and Sherlock sank to his knees. 

"Well, you know the way, Sherlock, lead on."

"It would be easier if I could use my hands," the detective muttered.

John laughed. "Consider it a challenge. If you make it inside without a stumble, I'll give you a kiss."

Sherlock tried, he really did, but he barely made it further than 3 feet before he began to topple, the two older men were there, though and made sure he didn't hit the hard concrete face first. "Bollocks!" came the frustrated detective's exclamation. He had truly wanted that kiss.

Mycroft swatted him on the back of the head. "Language, brother dear, language." Sherlock stuck out his tongue which earned him another swat.

Sherlock ducked his head away from his brother's hand and ended up losing his balance again, John caught him and set him straight, "I guess you'd better walk in, we can do the whole crawling thing in a minute."

The detective stood, leaning unnecessarily on John's strong form. It was comforting and had the added benefit of being warm. Once they were through the door, however, John pushed him away and back down to the floor. He also took the Belstaff and hung it on a convenient hook. He looked at the elder Holmes. "Now what, Mycroft?"

"Now we have some fun. Go through to the office brother-mine. I need to have a discussion with John."

"But-" 

"Go. Now, Sherlock."

The detective rolled his eyes and made his way towards the stairs up to the British government's office. 

"I prefer to direct, as a rule. There are some minor exceptions, a touch here, a stroke there." Mycroft watched John's reaction. It wasn't unfavourable. "There's room for improvisation, of course, but for the duration of this scene, if I say stop, you stop, if I give an order, you follow through. Can you accept that?"

John narrowed his eyes slightly, alternating between nodding and shaking his head as if unsure. "Orders such as what?"

Mycroft paused, contemplating before he responded. "Nothing you would find distasteful, I assure you." Not if Mycroft had read the doctor correctly, and he knew he had. "I'll direct you in the method of restraint to be used on my brother, the most effective methods of teasing him and how and when to touch him. I assure you it will be educational for future interactions with him."

John gave the older man a dopey sideways smile. "Okay."

Mycroft indicated the stairs with a nod of his head and John ran up, ready to face the evening and the detective. 

Sherlock was waiting impatiently, pacing back and forth. He came to a halt facing both men as they entered.

"John," Mycroft gestured towards his brother, "Sherlock is still wearing entirely too many clothes. Remedy that, please."

With an evil grin John took a few steps towards the detective, he looked a sight, stood there with his chest out and the fact it wasn't through choice gave it a humorous edge. He didn't bother with the button on his trousers just tugged them down with a jerky motion that set Sherlock off balance. 

Even as Sherlock's trousers and pants pooled ridiculously at his feet, his cock jutted out, hard and proud. John reached out and ran a finger along its underside and smiled. "You can just toe off your shoes and the rest on your own." He moved his hand to Sherlock's shoulder to balance him. When he kicked his shoes away the doctor headed back towards the government official with a nod of the head John knew what he wanted. 

"Kneel!" He barked, in full Captain Watson mode. Mycroft's smile lit up his whole face in a way that John had never seen before. 

The older man handed him a large ring. "We don't want him coming prematurely, do we?" He asked with a wink. 

As John approached him, Sherlock wriggled back. He knew the ring would prolong the fun, but he simply couldn't make himself take it willingly. "Sherlock!" John barked and the detective halted. John snapped the ring in place around his cock and bollocks, checking the fit and giving a nod of satisfaction. "We're going to have some fun with you." He brushed some of his curls away and turned to Mycroft, who was routing through the wardrobe he smiled at what he turned around with. 

It was a bowl containing small evil looking clips. Clothes pins could have served the same purpose, but John had a feeling that the clips had more of a bite to them. The doctor glanced at Sherlock who was squirming in place.

"Do you often tie him up in your office while you work?" The doctor watched as Mycroft placed the bowl on the desk and sank into his big office chair to watch. 

"Well, doctor, you must admit that he makes a lovely addition to the decor." Mycroft smiled. "But with you here, the game can be taken a step further."

John grinned down at the detective. 

"Put him in that chair," he pointed to one of the wooden backed chairs in the corner. 

John dragged it over so it was in front of the desk, then he picked the detective up and deposited him in the seat. He pulled his arms up and behind and attached the cuffs to a conveniently placed hook. Sherlock was biting his lower lip and damn if that wasn't alluring. John reached for a clamp, then hesitated, looking towards the British Government sat behind his desk.

"Oh, go ahead, John. Decorate him as you see fit, but don't neglect his scrotum. I want to see it bristling with clamps."

The detective ducked his head and tugged at the cuffs. 

"Erm… baby brother, if you get out of those cuffs then I'll tie your hands with one end of a piece of rope and tie the other end around your balls," Sherlock froze immediately. "Oh, you remember how much you enjoyed that, do you?"

He shook his head violently. 

It was rather amusing to see Sherlock pull in his chest as John approached with the first clamp. The doctor hovered there just over the pink bud waiting, drawing out the anticipation before finally letting go. Sherlock's sharp intake of breath was accompanied by the stamping of feet and his eyes watered. John wondered just how tight the clamp was, and tested one on his fingertip. It was tight indeed.

"Don't worry, John, he's had it worse than that before."

The doctor eyed the younger man in front of him. "Is that true?"

He nodded, still biting his lip. "I destroyed Mycroft's best suit. He wasn't best pleased."

John shrugged. "Do you have a safe word?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "I do. Mycroft insisted on it."

"Well?" The doctor prodded.

He rolled his eyes again. "Sussex."

"That's good to know." Seeing as Sherlock was distracted by the banter, John closed a clamp on the helpless man's scrotum.

"Ow!" He yelled. "Fucking hell, John."

The doctor laughed. "Both Holmes' swearing in under an hour. Fantastic." He quickly slipped another clamp next to the first. 

"Bollocks!"

"Hmm, Mycroft, do you want him gagged?" John asked.

"Not just yet. I find it entertaining to watch his vaunted vocabulary go out the window, so to speak."

Sherlock growled in his brother's direction. "I'd like to see you keep your own bloody 'vocabulary' in line with clamps on your bollocks and nipples, you arse."

Mycroft regarded his brother, with squinted eyes. "Now you can gag him. That cupboard over there." Mycroft pointed. "Find a nice difficult one."

John picked up and discarded more than one gag: a ring gag, a ball gag, a bit gag. He finally settled on a silicone gag in the shape of a large cock. It was bright pink, which amused him and made the detective glower. The doctor approached, but Sherlock clamped his mouth shut, that is until John gave the clamp on his nipple a harsh twist.

"Fuck-" he cut off and John shoved the gag in. Sherlock choked as the doctor buckled up the gag causing it to brush the back of his throat and press his tongue down. The look he gave the doctor could have burnt through diamond and he chuckled. "Don't look at me like that, Sherlock, this is your brother's doing."

 _And_ , Sherlock thought,  _you're enjoying it entirely too muc_ h. He wriggled and squirmed, trying to dodge the next clamp that was making its way towards his other nipple. It did him no good and he let out a muffled yelp around the gag as it latched onto sensitive flesh.

"How many, Mycroft?"

"Well the aim here was to make him do as he's told. So he's 35, let's say 35?"

John smiled and ran his hands down the detective's pale chest. "Learning your lessons Sherlock?"

He ducked his head to watch what the doctor was up to as another clamp headed downwards. Sherlock found it difficult to determine what was worse, watching the clamp as it approached or closing his eyes and being surprised. Either way, there were several clamps left for him to decide.

"Come on, John, I can think of plenty more things we can do to him."

"He's alright."

"It wasn't him I was thinking of." 

John glanced over his shoulder and saw him looking down at his trousers with a look of such forlorn it made John take a step towards him. 

"We'll get to that I'm sure."

"If you'll look on the top shelf, you'll find something that will make my brother squirm delightfully and make him exquisitely sensitive."

John's eyebrow shot up and he looked very curious. What he pulled from the shelf was Tiger Balm. "Seriously, Mycroft?"

The British government inclined his head. "There's also something thick and long there. He would call it torture, I call it fun."

John wrapped his hands around something hard and pulled it off the shelf, in his palm was a large plug.

"I assume the Tiger Balm is for his cock and the plug is for his hole," John said with concern, "because I had plans for that luscious arse and I don't fancy the burn myself."

Mycroft inclined his head once more. "If it pleases you to do it that way." He stood up and walked around to face his brother who was breathing heavily through the gag deep down his throat. He leant over him in a way that was just to annoy the younger man and slid a chunk of wood out from beneath the detective's arse, leaving plenty of room for John to play with the plug. 

Sherlock would have glared at his brother, but the prospect of John giving him a proper rogering restrained him. He didn't want to give Mycroft any reason to reconsider what he had told John.

The doctor returned to the shelves and rummaged around, looking for lube. As soon as he found it, he made his way towards Mycroft. The older man held his hand out for the Tiger Balm. "You will be far too gentle for what will get the best response."

The doctor smiled and wrapped his hand around the plug again, weighing it up. 

Mycroft crouched down, his hand full of a generous amount of balm. Sherlock looked horrified as his brother slathered it over his balls and shaft working it thoroughly into the sensitive skin. The detective's squirming increased as the burn built in intensity.

John frowned briefly. "Since he can't talk, how do we know if it's too much?"

"He still has his fingers." Mycroft smiled. "He can always snap."

With a nod, the doctor approached, plug in hand.

"But you know, John, it's never too much. He would think safe wording is shameful."

"It's not though, it's not a bad thing if it's too much, only if it goes too far."

"I know that, he knows that, doesn't change what he will and won't do. How's that feeling now, Sherlock? Ready to do as you're told yet?" 

The detective hissed around his gag, narrowing his eyes up at his brother. Sherlock's private bits were, by now, burning like fire and his brother ran one manicured nail along the length of his cock. It would have made him come off of the chair if he hadn't been cuffed to it.

"Now, John," Mycroft looked pointedly at the plug, "I believe you have a job to do."

"I don't know, I quite like watching him squirm to be honest."

Mycroft chucked deeply and the glower he was receiving from Sherlock intensified. 

The doctor crouched behind the chair and peered through the gap in the wood. Sherlock's hole was presented like a trophy so John blew. The detective threw his head back so hard that there was an audible crack where it hit the back of the chair.

"Oh, so sorry," John's voice dripped with sarcasm, "Didn't mean to startle you." With that, he plunged one finger into Sherlock's greedy little hole, enjoying the muffled gasp.

Sherlock suckled on the fake cock with fruitless enthusiasm as John played with his hole. He sucked harder when he was breached with a second finger, just brushing against his prostate. And when Mycroft began stroking his burning length, he damned near bit as he bucked up into his brother's hand. How could anything so intense feel so... well, good? It didn't make sense.

"Struggling to make sense of it, little brother?"

He nodded jerkily. 

"That's a shame, maybe if you'd helped when I asked you wouldn't have this problem."

John chose that moment to steal Sherlock's attention back by adding a third finger and stroking more insistently across his prostate. The pressure he applied was enough to make the detective's eyes go wide and his cock to jerk spasmodically. Sherlock kept twisting, craning his neck to look at John over his shoulder one moment, then back around to glare at Mycroft the next. He thought about kicking out at his brother, but that wouldn't get the ring off any faster.

John removed his fingers and placed the tip of the plug against his loosened hole and pushed. As it penetrated Sherlock, Mycroft flicked a clamp off one of his brother's nipples. The detective yowled around the gag then panted through the pain, his cock throbbing with the need for release as well as pain. 

"I think he's learning his lessons, don't you think, doctor?"

John grinned evilly over Sherlock's head. "God, yes." He stood and leaned in close to his flatmate's ear, looking over at Mycroft who nodded. John licked a strip along Sherlock's neck, tasting salty skin, then continued to nibble at his earlobe.

"Don't forget the bowl, John," Mycroft called over his shoulder as he headed back to his desk to watch. 

"Oh, yes." He grabbed the bowl and clacked some of the clamps letting them click dangerously close to the already sensitive tip of his cock. 

Sherlock made an incoherent sound of distress and tried to draw his legs up, but the clamps that were already in place proved to be prohibitive.

John gave a half shrug. "I wasn't really planning on it, but since you insist..." He selected a clamp, set the bowl down and made a show of grasping the detective's cock. Sherlock went absolutely still, his eyes locked on the bit of metal and his breath coming shallow and fast. John coaxed the foreskin up and over head, then closed the clamp on the stretched skin. The moment he did, Sherlock saw stars and uttered muffled profanities. With that, John turned around pulled out the chair opposite the British Government and took a seat. 

"Been busy, Mycroft?" 

The older man smiled at the slyness of the doctor, he clasped his hands across his folded legs. 

Both Mycroft and John pulled off an air of casualness quite well, though they were very aware of just how long the clamps had been in place. They wouldn't leave them on a moment longer than was safe.

Sherlock both looked forward to and dreaded the clamps’ removal in equal proportions. He needed a distraction to keep from thinking on it. He needed to be touched. Sherlock made a needy whine.

"Can you hear something, Mycroft?"

The older man frowned. "No, John," he shook his head slightly. "How's work?"

John laughed. "How much longer are we going to be cruel for?"

Sherlock's head snapped up at that.

Mycroft smirked. "If he can find a use for that mouth of his besides spewing venom, we could consider being merciful."

It was almost comical, how frantically Sherlock nodded his head.

"Is this a bit you normally watch," John asked curiously, "or do you like to participate?"

"How many people do you think I've brought round here to torture him, John?" Mycroft questioned seriously. 

John glanced between the brothers for a moment, back, forth, back, forth. He felt like he was at Wimbledon. "From the blank look on your brother's face I'm guessing I'm the first?"

The older man inclined his head. "Indeed."

"So you participate, then?"

"Of course. We simply needed to see how open you were to the arrangement, which is very." Mycroft gave a little smile.

"We?"

"But, of course. It was Sherlock's idea."

John's smile broadened at that, feeling touched. "I don't think I can wait much longer, knowing that."

"Well, you've still got 5 left in your bowl."

"A present. From me to Sherlock. I won't add the last 5. That means less things to worry about," John noted.

Sherlock would have smiled if he could. 

John knelt in front of the prone detective. "Where to start?" He leant forward and wrapped his mouth around the head of Sherlock's cock, he bit down lightly on the clamp, trying to ignore the taste of Tiger Balm and focus on the precome glistening at the tip instead. He pulled back, tugging firmly with his teeth and ignoring the scrape of metal against enamel. When the clamp popped off, John spat it out to the sound of Sherlock's muffled howls. When he quieted somewhat, John placed a kiss on the red abused tip of the detective's cock.

The detective had tears streaming down his face now and John reached up to brush one away with his thumb. "Don't be upset, Sherlock, this is your own fault remember?"

He nodded slightly, assuming the doctor had wanted an answer, he'd been right and was glad he had when the kneeling man smiled more broadly. 

Mycroft unbuckled the gag, even as he warned against further snark. Sherlock nodded fervently, sweaty curls dripping. When he was in mid-nod, John jerked off two more clamps.

The detective didn't snark, he yowled.

When he calmed down, still breathing heavily, tears streamed down his face, John cupped his cheek. 

"You prepared to listen now?"

"Yes, Myc."

"John," Mycroft began, "Would you be so kind as to fetch the stool in the corner?"

Even as the doctor retrieved it, he noted the gleam in Sherlock's eyes. He immediately saw why. The stool was of a height that was perfect for either receiving a buggering or delivering a blow job. It was well padded and affixed with various eyehooks for bondage as well.

It didn't take long to move the detective from the uncomfortable chair to the stool. The cock ring disappeared along the way.

Immediately he knew what he was in store for, so when the doctor began to unzip his fly in front of him he tentatively opened his mouth. John started off gently, but Sherlock's skilled mouth soon had him losing control and he was thrusting far deeper than he had ever intended.

Mycroft placed a hand on the doctor's shoulder, bringing him back to himself. "I thought you had other plans for my brother." He let go, took a step and slapped his brother's arse.

"You only said that to have his mouth to yourself," the doctor said once he had control of himself again. 

The older man grinned and grabbed Sherlock by his curls. "You'd like that, wouldn't you, Boy?"

"Yes, Myc, I would. I really would."  Sherlock licked his lips and wiggled his arse suggestively.

John backed away, allowing Mycroft to take his place, then moved behind the detective, caressing his arse before removing the plug. The doctor admired the gaping, well-lubed hole for a moment then he plunged in.

Just as John got comfy, Mycroft pulled himself free, teasing his baby brother with just the head of his cock. 

"You want it all, yeah?"

"Mmm."

John decided to help his friend out and shoved in again... hard. Sherlock was thrust forward, his open mouth surrounding a bit more of Mycroft's cock. The younger Holmes closed his lips around it and sucked on it happily like it was a lolly.

"You can do better than that, little brother," Mycroft said as he stepped forward a little more. 

The government official froze when Sherlock ran his teeth along his length. 

Sherlock smirked inwardly. He knew precisely what his brother liked and he proceeded to demonstrate that fact, though it was difficult to concentrate with John doing such delightful things. 

Sherlock completely lost it when John came. He wanted to yell, but Mycroft thrust in too and he tried to remain on top of his gag reflex. When Mycroft came down his throat, Sherlock swallowed as best he could, still wrung out from his own orgasm.

John and Mycroft collapsed in chairs, trying to recover, the doctor laughing from the rush of endorphins and the government official gone soft and languid. For his part, Sherlock relaxed where he lay, enjoying the afterglow. Finally, he asked the other two men, "When can we do this again?"

"Give me two hours," John murmured, closing his eyes. 

"Sleep by all means, John," Sherlock grumbled. "Can you untie me first?"

"I would say the clamps were a priority, no?" John asked.

It was, surprisingly, Mycroft that remedied Sherlock's remaining predicaments, eliciting much hissing and a few expletives. He also uncuffed him and, once his brother was free, the younger man stood there looking lost. Discerning the reason, Mycroft pulled his chair beside John's before resuming his seat. Sherlock smiled gratefully and curled up at both men's feet and, much to the doctor's amusement, fell asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Think about a million times before trying anything with Tiger Balm. Really.


End file.
